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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503715">Peace and Quiet</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/multiplefandomfan/pseuds/multiplefandomfan'>multiplefandomfan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Baby Peter Parker, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff that's fluffy enough to fluff by itself, M/M, Sleepy Tony, Superfamily</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 18:27:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503715</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/multiplefandomfan/pseuds/multiplefandomfan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Don't want to get out of bed</p><p>I hope this qualifies? :D</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>104</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>POTS (18+) Stony Stocking 2019</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Peace and Quiet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmoremajestic/gifts">muchmoremajestic</a>.</li>



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchmoremajestic/pseuds/muchmoremajestic">muchmoremajestic</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/stony_stocking_2019">stony_stocking_2019</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <strong>Prompt:</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>Short prompts: Don't want to get out of bed</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was one of those nights when all was quiet.</p><p>All was peaceful. </p><p>Sleepy little Avengers were all tucked up fast asleep in their respective beds, snoring away and dreaming the dreams of the just. </p><p>Silence reined. </p><p>Peace and quiet.</p><p>No villains. No drama. Just the usual New York City traffic of sparrow-fart o’clock in the morning.</p><p>But then.</p><p>Oh, but then, my dear friends. </p><p>That thing occurred. </p><p>The lungs of one previously fast-asleep baby Peter Rogers (nee Parker) were filled with impossible amounts of oxygen so as to let out the loudest of squalls. </p><p>And what, I ask you, what proud parent could sleep through sound when piped through Jarvis-activated parent.</p><p>One sleep-enriched arm poked at the pale scruff of blonde hair lying next to him. “S’tve?” a moment passed “y’r trn.” Exhaustion coated that rich voice, not remotely shrouded by the squeals of anger. “Steeeeeve.” </p><p>The blonde hair grunted. </p><p>With muttered curses about the super-deaf and lumpish husbands, one Tony Rogers (nee Stark) pushed himself upright and near fell out of bed as his free hand met air-resistance as opposed the mattress it’d clearly been reaching for. This sudden jolt granted the three-quarters asleep billionaire an iota of wakefulness. </p><p>With a jealous glare at his miraculously sleeping husband, he heaved himself out of bed and stumbled his way into the next door room where a now whimpering child was sitting up in bed glaring expectantly at the door, one hand rubbing at a teary eye, the other at a reddened ear. </p><p>“H-hey Petey,” came the sleep-ridden voice, all traces of ire completely vanishing upon sight of his beloved son, “What’s going on here?” </p><p>Upon seeing his parent, and apparently his saviour, the wails restarted as though on cue. “Oh.. buddy. One hand expertly checked the nappy to reveal that was dry. “Hmm…?” Tony bent over, picking up the crying baby and began to bounce him in his arms, rocking back and forth slowly. “This isn’t like you, little man. What’s your problem?” The words themselves were fairly unimportant in nature, Tony mostly concentrating on making his voice as soothing as possible.</p><p>He had the nasty feeling that it was something to do with his son’s reddened right ear.</p><p>“Is your ear sore, Petey? J, can you check his temperature?” Tony asked as he exited his son’s room and made his way to the kitchen. Maybe some milk…</p><p>“Young sir’s temperature is slightly elevated at 99 degrees Fahrenheit. I did observe him rubbing his ear in his sleep, medical advice is to not give him any medicine yet as his temperature is only barely elevated, would you like me to wake Captain Rogers, sir?” </p><p>“Nah,” came Tony’s response as he heated a bottle, “if he managed to sleep through this then he must be tired. Let him sleep.” The company would have been nice, this was Peter’s first brush with illness with them. But Tony wasn’t worried, he wasn’t. He wasn’t going to muck this up, not with J. “I … definitely should just leave him?” he asked, just for clarification, not because he was worried. </p><p>“This is what my research indicates, Sir.” </p><p>Tony hummed in discontentment as he moved into the sitting room with bottle in tow and sat down in the rocking arm chair he had built for nights like this. It was what his research indicated too, a fever was at 100 degrees, and that’s when it would be suitable for medication… But that meant that Petey just had to suffer? That seemed hardly right. Still…he was settling down now with the bottle in his mouth. Tony smiled, as ever, completely engrossed.</p><p>The baby was just so perfect. Not a hint of imperfection… With his white, porecelin skin. And his light dusting of hair… and those eyes which were slowly slipping closed. Ten little fingers, four of which were trying determinedly to grip the bottle. Ten little toes which were kicking sleepily, waving and waggling around in their little blue sleeper. Just.. perfection. </p><p>Tony may have been exhausted, dark bags underlying his eyes. But he smiled, a smile that only grew as a warm hand blanketed his shoulder and he was greeted by his husbands’ sheepish smile. “Sorry, love.” Came Steve’s voice as he kissed his husband’s forehead. </p><p>Tony said nothing other than resting his head on his husband’s hip, eyes basking in the perfection that his life was at the moment in time. His son’s peaceful sucks, his husband’s steady exhalation of breath. </p><p>Peace.</p>
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